Cross-Cultural Misunderstandings
by Pyreite
Summary: [Post ME3 Destruction ending] Garrus and Shepard have planned to spend their lives together, but they have to jump a few hurdles on their way towards a blissful relationship. Cross-species confusion ensues, mixed signals, and misunderstandings abound. FemShep x Garrus. Oneshot broken into chapters. [Ongoing]
1. Neither Weak nor Powerless

_**Cross-Cultural Misunderstandings **_

_**by Pyreite**_

**Rating:** M – Contains Mature Themes

**Synopsis: **Post ME3 Destruction ending. Garrus and Shepard have planned to spend their lives together, but they have to jump a few hurdles on their way towards a blissful relationship. Cross-species confusion ensues, mixed signals, and misunderstandings abound. Turians like to be sure of their place at the sides of their chosen future bondmates, but Shepard being a little bit too human, doesn't know how to read some of those subtler signals.

**Warnings:** _Contains kissing, cuddling, pure Shakarian fluff, hints of citrus but no actual lemonade, a lover's quarrel, the use of coarse language (i.e. swearing), an attempt to apologise, and a glimpse into Turian mating instincts. Discretion is advised._

_**Chapter 1: Neither Weak Nor Powerless**_

Shepard found him leaning over the Main Battery's central console. He was calibrating another firing algorithm to the parameters of peak performance. She watched his fingers dance over the holographic keyboard, tweaking this and that, while his booted toes tapped a beat to some inane tune that only he could hear. Shepard rolled her eyes when she saw the piece of equipment that had become an essential part of his wardrobe. She was certain that the visor's Kuwashii-style frame was permanently welded to his skull.

Garrus Vakarian never took the damned thing off, even when he was in bed, hogging the blankets, stealing the pillows, and sleepily sprawling over her expansive mattress. Shepard smiled indulgently. She was hopelessly in love with him. Her favourite turian regularly used all of the hot water when he took those irritatingly long showers, but Shepard always forgave him, especially when she often shared the shower-stall too. He owned her bed as much as he owned her heart, bathroom, and everything else that was, had been, and would always be exclusively hers.

Shepard wandered into Garrus's personal space, slipped her arms round his middle, and laid her chin on the cool metal encasing his shoulder. The suit of heavy-armour he still wore, more out of habit than necessity, had been expertly patched. Tali had done an excellent job of scouring the burns, sealing the bullet-holes that had breached the outer-plating, and sanding down the burrs, scuffs, and abrasions. The paint-job was a work in progress, but Shepard appreciated the monogram in the middle of Garrus's armoured cowl. She slid a hand under his arm, leaned over to kiss his scarred mandible, and drummed her fingertips upon the stylised '_S_' on his breastplate encircled by a pair of feathered wings.

The monogram, dubbed '_Shepard's Seduction by an Archangel_' by Joker, was a symbol of pride worn by many of the crew. Shepard preferred the Palaveni version tattooed into the curve of her lower-back that had Garrus's name initialled in place of the capital letter of her surname. She grinned unrepentantly when her beau coughed, mandibles clacking, and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His head shook disapprovingly. Shepard squeezed Garrus's waist knowing that he couldn't feel the pressure through the plates of his armour.

The action distracted her workaholic lover from his duties. Shepard brazenly rapped her knuckles on the silver pelvic-guard between his thighs. She smirked wickedly when she heard that delightful flanging groan. The turian's pledge, sworn beside her sickbed in that cold English hospital, hadn't been that surprising. They had already agreed to retire after the Reaper War, live off the royalties from the vids, and to make a start on a family of their own.

Shepard hadn't thought that her sweet if clumsy fiancé would make good on his promise. She'd come through the War with a few less original parts, a few more mechanical replacements, and a plethora of new scars to rival their boastful Krogan Battlemaster. Wrex had guffawed over the idea of a human marrying a turian, but he had supported their unconventional match wholeheartedly. Shepard would always remember the old Krogan's toothy grin when her legendary heroism had earned admiring glances from people of all walks of life, race, and species. The twenty-eighth breeding request from a hopelessly smitten Urdnot Darg had sealed her fate.

Garrus refused to lose his potential bondmate to an amorous Krogan fanboy. The Thessian disciples from the Temple of Athame, a group of asari in their middling matron years, hadn't improved his sense of familial security. The generous offer to mother a new generation of baby-blue asari Shepardlings had made the already agitated turian _possessive_. The vid-messages from a grateful General Nicadmus Korillius, cured of a Cerberus-crafted neurotoxin thanks to Shepard's correspondence with a troubled salarian doctor, had been the final straw. Garrus was hyperaware of his tenuous position as the _boyfriend_ neither officially affianced, nor permanently bondmated to the most eligible bachelorette in the galaxy.

Shepard deliberately bumped her hip against his, ruining Garrus's concentration, and winked cheekily whilst he glared. She smiled when he huffed indignantly. He was the consummate professional, but could be wonderfully feisty if needled long enough to rouse his ire. Shepard slid in the way of the gauntleted fingers tweaking a new set of firing algorithms. Garrus's mandibles pulled tight to his plated-chin, a sign that he was annoyed by her intrusion into his domain.

He had a death-grip on the Main Battery's central console. Shepard saw how his gauntleted thumbs and fingers scored the bed of black steel underneath the holographic keyboard. She watched the way his mandibles twitched when the console beeped, the keys flashed red, and a sequence of error messages scrawled across the screen. He was dangerously close to losing that formidable turian self-control. Shepard decided to press her advantage before she was ushered out the door.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Shepard felt Garrus stiffen when she cupped his jaw. She stroked the raised ridges and scarred hollows marring his mandible, chin, and the softer un-plated skin of his throat. The scar-tissue, long healed but still sensitive to touch, won Shepard an involuntary flanging moan. The turian was trying to resist her affections. She was disappointed when Garrus seized her wrist, pinned her hand to the console, and rounded on her with three months' worth of pent-up frustration.

"_Damn it_!_ The Thanix isn't going to calibrate itself_! _You can't be in here while I'm trying to work, Shepard_! _You're too distracting_! _Now do me a favour and get out_!"

Shepard took Garrus's testiness in stride. She could see what Tali had meant by the phrase '_He's acting like a Krogan_'. Her lover's abrupt cut-off from all pleasurable activities until the night of their impending nuptials had made him downright _nasty_. Garrus was obviously overstressed, overtaxed, and in need of some tender-loving-care. Shepard hadn't heard any complaints from the crew, but while she appreciated their loyalty, she couldn't condone the hot-headed turian's erratic behaviour.

"I'd prefer to stay right here", she countered smoothly. The battle of wills began. Garrus scowled. Shepard returned his baleful glower with a smile. The tension between them was a blend of exasperation, the clash of two forceful personalities, and a natural inclination to defy authority.

Shepard wondered if Garrus might be more amiable if she stowed away with him inside their quarters for a few hours. The parades, medal ceremonies, and spontaneous post-war celebrations since the official press release of her miraculous recovery had eroded his patience. The Normandy S-R2, fresh out of dry-dock, was already on a diplomatic trip to the centre of Council space. Shepard needed her favourite turian in the right frame of mind when they arrived aboard the Citadel. She could navigate the sea of work-crews repairing the vast space-station on her own, but she relied on Garrus to steer her through the complexities of turian social custom.

Shepard studied her beau's heavy plated-brows, ridged nose, and restlessly fluttering mandibles. He was tense from the top of his fringe to the armoured soles of his boots. The hard line of his shoulders, the rigidity in his posture, and the menacing stoop of his plated-neck kept those predatory eyes unnervingly focused. Shepard fearlessly returned the territorial turian's gaze. She hadn't made that suicidal rush to the Conduit, the bewildering trip through the heart of the Citadel, and that crucial final choice for nothing.

Shepard had wanted that mundane domesticity the instant Garrus had suggested retiring somewhere warm and tropical. The lure of an ordinary life was more enticing than a bottle of fine dual-chiral wine. The aggravated turian, seconds from bodily tossing her out of the Main Battery, was an integral part of those future-proofing plans. Shepard was tired of being the Council's puppet Spectre, the galaxy's disparaged messenger, and the Alliance's archetypal soldier. She wanted to spend the remaining years of her life, however long or short, loving the only person in the galaxy who had always watched her six.

Shepard curled the fingers of her trapped hand around Garrus's gauntleted wrist. She frowned when she felt the hard, frigid, and unsatisfyingly smooth silver plates under her palm. The shell of his armour, tailored to turian physiology, prevented her from touching the pleasantly warm and rough plated skin underneath. Garrus's face, fringe, and throat were the only parts of him still bare. Shepard casually reached with her free hand, extended her fingers to mould round the angular planes of his chin, and paused when she saw how discomforted he was by her affection.

Her hand dropped to the central console's cold steel frame. Shepard's face darkened as she considered the only possible rationale for Garrus's sudden fury, iciness, and self-imposed exile inside the Main Battery. The three nights spent sleeping alone inside their large and empty bed had reinforced her doubts. Shepard unwound her fingers from his wrist, reined in her disappointment, and extracted herself from that painfully intimate space between the armoured ring of Garrus's cowl and his workstation. She spied the patch of brown in her peripheral vision, turned her head, and saw the narrow military cot, folded blanket, and pillow neatly arranged against a sterile bulkhead.

The realisation stung worse than a vial of medigel slathered over a fresh wound. Shepard swallowed the hurt, schooled her expression, and folded her arms across her chest. The gesture of self-protection, meant to erect a barrier between oneself and others, was a recognisable social cue in turian culture too. Garrus was concerned by Shepard's sudden change from the playful flirt to the disciplined stoicism of the veteran _Commander_. The articulation of her unhappy conclusion startled him.

"You've had second thoughts about us".

Garrus's shocked silence spoke volumes. Shepard smiled bitterly. She reflected on their explosive argument three days ago, his enraged withdrawal from their quarters, and subsequent squatting in the Main Battery. They hadn't occupied the same space since that turbulent standoff for more than half an excruciating hour every morning, noon, and evening during communal meals. The crew had noticed the strain between them, but were always too polite to comment on their domestic troubles.

Shepard didn't sob when she was miserable. She was too much the hardened soldier to give voice to her sorrows. The spark of Garrus's anxieties caught like a flame to tinder when he saw the tears, shed in silence, roll down Shepard's cheeks. The wild-fire of his insecurity blazed out of control when she nimbly eluded his grasping hands. She was halfway across the Main Battery, striding determinedly towards the door, when Garrus barrelled into her back.

Shepard rocked forward off-balance. The vertebrae in her spine flexed as she was yanked forcibly backward. The air whooshed from her lungs when she slammed into Garrus's breastplate. The ring of his cowl, a broad circle of fused bone, was encased in a slab of ceramic-plating overlaid in steel. The back of Shepard's head cracked on that metal protrusion and in retaliation she drove her elbow into the vulnerable unarmoured space under the turian's arm. Garrus's flanging howl nearly burst her eardrums.

Shepard hated being manhandled when she was trying to make a dignified retreat. She dropped under Garrus's guard, shoved him away, and darted for the door. She raised her fist to pound on the glowing green key-panel when he ploughed into her back again. Shepard was breathing hard, pinned to the door by his heavier armoured frame, and unable to evade the gauntleted hands capturing her wrists. The key-panel glowed red, indicative of her wily beau locking the sensor array, sealing the door shut. Shepard bellowed indignantly.

"_Get off of me, Garrus_! _You could at least have the decency to let me walk out of the Main Battery the same way I came in_! _We may have our differences but I have always respected your dignity_! _Damn it_! _Stop making this more difficult than it has to be_! _Get off of me right now_!"

Shepard gasped when a hot tongue lapped across the nape of her neck. Gooseflesh prickled up and down her spine as Garrus's plated mouth nipped over bare skin. She heard heavy panting, a flanging purr, and the unmistakable sound of fabric being torn open by needle-sharp turian teeth. Cold air licked across her upper-back until Garrus pressed his warm plated-brow between her shoulder-blades. His voice was husky with contrition.

"You're making everything worse".

Shepard sensed an opportunity for escape. She stomped on the toe of Garrus's boot, cursed when the thin heel of her shoe bounced off the steel-plating, and winced when the jarring blow made her ankle, calf, and knee ache. Her precarious position against the Main Battery's door was immediately reversed. Shepard was pulled up and around to face her adversary. She glared when the naked skin of her shoulders met frigid metal and her hands were once again restrained by gauntleted turian fingers.

"_Don't you dare blame me for this bullshit, Garrus_! _I came here to apologise, but you're not interested in a civil conversation_! _So why don't you do me a favour for a change_! _Back off like the gentleman I know you can be, let go of me, and I'll forget about this little show of insubordination_!_ If you fail to comply than I'll have to break off your mandibles and shove them down your throat_!"

Shepard anticipated an intensely violent reaction. She was unprepared for Garrus's throat to flush a vibrant royal blue, the rhythmic clacking of his mandibles, and the _crest of horns_ atop his crown to extend like a cockerel's comb. She gaped incredulously when the turian cocked his head like a curious bird. He watched her with an eagle's predatory focus, cautiously inched forward, and slowly parted the hard lines of his plated-mouth. Shepard proudly lifted her chin as she stared him down.

"_I'm not afraid of you, Garrus_".

The turian's avian eyes glowed a shade of fiery blue. His velvety growl resonated through that broad armoured chest. He had Shepard physically restrained but she was far from helpless. She brought her knees up hard into that same unarmoured spot underneath his arms. The breastplate and shoulder-guards shielded vital areas of Garrus's body but left two narrow bands of his black insulating under-suit exposed.

Shepard drove her knees, twice more, into his unprotected armpits. The pang of sympathy for the turian's pained roars waned when he sank his teeth into her shoulder. The bite, hard enough to bruise, made Shepard scream. "_You dirty bastard_!" The heady rush of agony, outrage, and adrenaline fuelled the visceral hunger for revenge.

Shepard spied the underside of Garrus's throat. The soft un-plated skin, vibrating with the intensity of his flanging growls, darkened to a dusky navy-blue. Shepard gritted her teeth, whipped her head forward, and gave the turian a taste of his own medicine. She eagerly returned that jaw-cracking pressure till her gums ached. Garrus's flanging snarl rasped in her ears, moist air kissed her bloodied shoulder, and she gave him the same courtesy.

Shepard eyed him warily. She laid her head against the door of the Main Battery, licked her lips, and tasted the metallic tinge of turian blood. She cursed her own stupidity but the damage was done. "_Damn it_! _Now is not the time to forget an antihistamine shot_!" Shepard mused on the irony of suffering anaphylactic shock after she had slain Saren Arterius, destroyed the Collector homeworld, and defeated the galaxy's greatest biomechanical threat.

"Death by dextro-allergy, how fucking embarrassing".

Shepard saw the semi-circular indentations of her teeth in the skin of Garrus's throat. She could already see the faint purpling of what would swell into a nasty weal. His blood, a rich shade of sapphire blue, stained her lips, cheeks, and chin. Shepard met Garrus's eye, pealed her lips back, and snapped her flat white mammalian teeth. She lacked the turian's sharp serrated fangs, but she had still inflicted a powerful bite.

"_If you maul me than I'll maul you, Garrus!_"

Shepard tasted the spicy burn of his blood on her tongue. The soft insides of her mouth tingled pleasantly as if she'd gargled mouthwash saturated with alcohol. She wondered if Garrus had always possessed that disturbingly natural ability to wear down her defences. Shepard was trying to sustain the flood of rage smouldering through her veins, but another kind of heat, pooling in the pit of her belly, threatened to drown the first in a wave of arousal. She brought her knees up again when Garrus, his plated-mouth wet and glistening with splatters of scarlet, rounded on her with a throaty purr.

"_You want more_! _Bring it on you sneaky bastard_!"

The turian silenced her protest with a kiss that tasted of blood, sweat, and that familiar _primal _yearning. Shepard tried to knee him under the arms again. She yelped when Garrus ground her hard into the door of the Main Battery. The rivets, seals, and seams of his heavy-armour painfully squished her chest, belly, and thighs. The scaly bastard was taking charge of the situation and not above utilising dirty tactics to gain the upper-hand.

"_Damn you to the grave, Garrus_!"

Shepard writhed like a snake. She spat expletives while the canny turian exercised his dominance. She was ensnared, incapable of satisfactorily responding to his hard nips, teasing licks, and heady kisses, and frustrated by the knowledge that she was unable to take control. Shepard was used to her subordinates falling in line. She hadn't deferred to another since being promoted to the position of Executive Officer aboard the Normandy S-R1.

Shepard hissed in annoyance when Garrus's incisors pricked her lower-lip. The bite was gentle but firm enough to make her tense like a drawn bowstring. She shivered when a hot sandpapery tongue lapped the throbbing skin. Shepard whined helplessly when that tongue was withdrawn from her mouth. She scowled when Garrus, panting hard, made an intolerable command.

"Stop fighting me, Shepard!"

The esteemed Commander was a stubborn woman. She had continually survived the galaxy's most demoralizingly desperate battles, only to emerge on the other side wounded but alive, and all too conscious of the friends that were casualties of War. She'd lost Ashley on Virmire to Saren's distorted ambitions, the terminally ill Thane to Kai Leng's blade, and Legion to his own self-sacrifice for the betterment of his people. Shepard gaped at Garrus as if he'd lost his sanity. The slow shake of her head, a gesture of denial, culminated in the turian vocalising a mournful flanging wail.

Shepard's eyes watered when she heard that despondent sound. She gasped when Garrus looked at her with the resignation of a person used to disappointment. She watched the extended comb of his fringe wilt against the crown of his head. The _crest of horns_ flattened, the lurid flush in his throat turned a sickly grey-purple, and those soulful blue eyes lost that vivacious lustre. The spark of Shepard's desire extinguished as her favourite turian bowed his head.

The gesture of submission, a willing acknowledgement of her authority, made her heart turn to ice. The gulf of misunderstanding widened when Garrus gently released Shepard's wrists. He eased her onto the floor of the Main Battery, continued to make that perturbingly sad sound deep inside his throat, and averted his gaze when she tentatively pressed a hand to her torn shoulder. The blood, already congealing, came away in dried red flakes. The semi-circular punctures of Garrus's barb-like fangs ached but the injury was relatively minor.

Shepard had suffered far worse. She rubbed her wounded shoulder, watched Garrus stride to his military cot, and saw him flick the folded blanket back to reveal a small red box. Shepard recognized the scuffed and scratched first-aid kit. The box was full of basic medical supplies. Garrus popped the lid, rummaged inside, and removed vials of medigel, a ball of gauze, a roll of bandages, and two blue bottles full of allergy-relief medication.

Shepard mulled over their argument three days ago, their recent confrontation, and Garrus's heartfelt plea. Comprehension dawned like a ray of sunlight in the haze of her ignorance. She had succeeded where the thugs of Omega had failed. Shepard had broken something inside of her feisty turian beloved. Garrus was acting like a chastised child trying to correct a tragic mistake.

Shepard took a fortifying breath, swallowed her pride, and slowly crossed the Main Battery. Garrus tensed as she approached him. His eyes were lowered, the bony ridges of his mandibles trembled, and his gauntleted hands clamped round the first-aid kit. The guilt dropped like a stone into the pit of Shepard's stomach. She had expressed remorse to grieving families during her career as an Alliance soldier, but she was too unfamiliar with turian culture to know if they practised such courtesies.

Shepard stepped between Garrus's armoured legs. She raised her hand, ignored his involuntary flinch, and tenderly stroked her knuckles across his coarse plated-cheek. She laid a finger upon the bloody lines of his mouth when his mandibles flared. He tried to speak but Shepard shushed him. She shook her head, wrapped a hand around the box he grasped, and for the first time she asked for his permission.

"Please give this to me, Garrus".

The gentlest tug on the first-aid kit seemed to surprise the turian. Shepard saw his heavy plated-brows arch, his luminous eyes glint with curiosity, and the agitated twitching of his mandibles ease. She sighed in relief when the box was willingly surrendered. She had expected a tug of war to ensue over the right of possession. Shepard peered inside, noticed the bottle of disinfectant, and would have extracted the item if another thought hadn't made her hesitate.

Garrus was a member of a militaristic race. His people favoured discipline, responsibility, and a strong sense of personal honour. The turian naturally held his own happiness second to the wellbeing of those that he loved. Shepard pulled her hand back ignoring the bottle of disinfectant. Garrus watched as the first-aid kit was laid atop the cot again.

Shepard realised that her fiancé, regardless of his self-image as a _bad turian_, wouldn't accept an insincere apology. Garrus could not entirely disassociate his personal beliefs from the foundations of the very Palaveni culture that had spawned him. The principles of the _good turian_ were too ingrained into the fibre of his being. Shepard pondered how she might reassure her beau's masculine sensibilities; restore his confidence in their relationship, and pacify his sense of turian honour. She considered his apprehensive plated-face.

Garrus was watching her cagily. His eyes followed her every motion, scrutinised her expression, and studied the slightest change in her body-language. Shepard decided that the direct but subtle approach would fare better than a tactical assault. She had negotiated a ceasefire between the Quarians and the Geth, resolved the three-hundred-year-old Morning War in one afternoon, and taken the first steps to facilitate their mutual cohabitation on Rannoch. Shepard was certain that expressing her regret to Garrus, in a way that he would understand, would be harder than shouting down the Admiral of the Quarian Heavy-fleet.

She was determined to bridge the gulf between them. Shepard reached for the bottles of allergy-relief medication that Garrus had laid atop the blanket. She rolled the cylinders between her fingers, nervously read the labels, and chose to keep one. Shepard turned her hand, palm up, and offered the second bottle to Garrus. She waited for him to make a choice.

Time passed in silence as the turian regarded the item proffered. The pills contained inside the bottle, a precaution prescribed by the late Doctor Mordin Solus, were an oral substitute for an antihistamine shot. Shepard had regularly, despite her mild-dextro sensitivity, ingested the medication to appease Garrus. His belief in the human adage, '_Better to be safe than sorry_', often influenced their intimate relations. Shepard was thankful when he finally took the bottle from her hand.

She noticed that the container wasn't immediately uncapped. Garrus paused long enough to gauge Shepard's reaction. The rapid blinking of her eyes to hold back the tears gave away her anxiety. Shepard wasn't too proud to cry, but she rarely lost her composure. Garrus watched her unscrew the cap of her own bottle.

Shepard cupped that cap in one hand, reached in with the fingers of the other, and withdrew two small round yellow pills. She would have offered the medicine to Garrus if he hadn't leaned forward. She stared when his mandibles spread wide, the plates of his mouth parted, and the twin rows of his sharp turian teeth swung open. Shepard stiffened as a long muscular blue tongue slithered under her fingers. The turian's hot, moist, and rough tastebuds licked over her palm.

Shepard was distracted by the prickling of Garrus's incisors. He nibbled on the tips of her fingers, dulled the sting with a swipe of his tongue, and applied the gentlest pressure. The dextro equivalent of Shepard's antihistamine pills was sucked into Garrus's mouth along with a pair of calloused human fingers. Shepard clenched her teeth, inhaled shakily through her nose, and repressed the urge to strip the turian of his armour. The wily bastard was testing the waters of her self-restraint.

Shepard bit her lip when she felt the cushiony insides of Garrus's mouth. His tongue rolled over her fingertips as he swallowed. The wet suction lasted a handful of seconds that seemed like an eternity. Shepard slid her glistening fingers free as Garrus relented. She groaned when he caught her wrist, turned her hand, and kissed the centre of her palm.

Shepard was relieved when the sly turian finally released her hand. He watched as she tried to recap his medicine bottle. Her slick fingers fumbled awkwardly as she fought to gain purchase on the ribbed piece of plastic. Garrus resisted the urge to laugh when Shepard swore. She jammed the cap onto the bottle, whacked it with a vicious smack of her palm, and screwed it down with a rough twist of her wrist.

Garrus had rarely seen the venerable _Commander Shepard_ so irritable. She froze when the cool tips of his gauntleted fingers plucked the medicine bottle out of her hands. She gawked as the turian tossed it into the still open first-aid kit. The bounce and rattle of the pills inside made her wince. Shepard refocused her attention on Garrus, assumed that he would hand over a dose of her own antihistamine tablets, and waited for him to act accordingly.

Her initial assumption was correct. The turian did uncap her medicine bottle, reach inside, and withdraw two round white pills. He did not, as Shepard had presumed he would, give her the goods. Garrus recapped the bottle instead, tossed it back into the first-aid kit alongside his own medication, and spread his mandibles wide. He gave Shepard the equivalent of a cocky turian grin as he opened his plated mouth.

His thick blue tongue rolled out from behind his teeth. Shepard gulped when the infuriatingly smug bastard daintily laid her medicine on the moist flesh of his tastebuds. He cheekily turned his wrist, extended a gauntleted finger, and silently beckoned her to come closer. Shepard preferred to lead than follow, but under the current circumstances, she had little choice. Her medication was slowly dissolving in Garrus's saliva.

Shepard rocked onto the balls of her feet. Garrus was a full foot and a half taller than her in height. His refusal to stoop to accommodate her was certainly out of character. Shepard was used to having her desires immediately satiated. Garrus was a conscientious lover, who had always guaranteed her contentment, before satisfying himself. The role-reversal demonstrated the inequality in their relationship.

Shepard reflected on how Garrus, the _Giver of Affection_, was always considerate of her needs. He was aware of the vulnerabilities of her human biology, took steps to mitigate the chances of injuring her, and neglected his own innate turian instincts. Shepard mused that he often insisted she ingest a dose of allergy-relief medication to minimise the risk of anaphylactic shock during their intimate moments. Garrus's peculiar habit of filing down his claws was another obvious attempt to avoid accidentally lacerating her soft and thin un-plated skin. The tempering of his strength, the adoption of human gestures of affection like '_Kissing_', and the way he massaged lotion into the patches of her skin, chafed raw by his plates, proved his devotion.

Shepard smiled ruefully. She leaned inward, parted her lips, and willingly accepted Garrus's tongue sliding into her mouth. She sucked on that slick blue tip to dislodge the antihistamine pills from the sandpapery bed of his tastebuds. Shepard rolled the medication towards the back of her throat, swallowed reflexively, and would have withdrawn if Garrus's gauntleted fingers hadn't threaded through her hair. The gentle nipping of his plated-mouth made her mewl.

Shepard's response was more intuitive than conscious. She surprised her future bondmate when she ceded control. Garrus's flanging purr resonated in the moist cavity of his mouth, the hollow of his throat, and deep inside the broad barrel of his chest. He treasured the rare moment of trust as he curled his gauntleted fingers around the nape of Shepard's neck. He was pleased when the woman he loved, unconsciously placating his instincts, allowed her head to be guided back to expose the silky slope of her throat.

Garrus pressed his plated brow into that warm bare skin, opened his mouth, and voiced that same heartfelt plea. "Stop fighting me, Shepard. I'm not your enemy. I'm the turian that loves you". Garrus's heart, pulsing like a drum, echoed the constant clamouring of his instincts. He wanted to guard this treasure from his rivals, reaffirm his dedication to their relationship, and ensure the permanence of their eventual bondmating. He tensed when he smelt the salt of Shepard's tears.

Garrus anticipated rejection but was reassured when her hands glided over his face. His eyes closed as he luxuriated in the sensation of her exploratory touches. Shepard slipped her fingertips under the sensitive hinges of his mandibles. Garrus whined as she rubbed the pads of her thumbs in tantalising circles. Shepard slid her palm over the plated nape of his neck.

The leisurely drag of her nails over coarse plated-skin incited a flanging moan. Shepard kneaded underneath the base of the turian's fringe, pursed her lips, and huskily conveyed her answer. "Show me how to surrender". The shadow of Saren, the Collectors, and the Reaper fleet receded when Garrus enveloped Shepard in his arms. He grasped her rear, lifted her high, and tenderly lapped the underside of her throat.

The turian's flanging purr, reverberating with relief, rumbled pleasantly in Shepard's ears. She was carried to the cot, laid across the blanket, and kissed into submission. Garrus snapped the band of her brassiere that was visible through the ragged tear in the sleeve of her N7 hoody. He grinned, showing two rows of sharp turian teeth, when she sulked. Shepard grumbled as he took his sweet time to remove the rest of her clothes.

"_Damn it, Garrus_! _Either take them off or rip them off_! _Just make up your damned mind_!"

Shepard's cheeks were wet, she reeked of brine, but she wasn't miserable. She was _furious_ as her lover unlatched one piece of his hard-suit at a time. Garrus's tortuously slow strip-tease lasted five long minutes before he was clad in his snug black under-suit. The myriad pieces of his heavy-armour were stacked in a neat pile beside the military cot. Shepard impatiently hooked her legs around his waist when he finally removed his visor.

The turian groaned when she squeezed his hips. Shepard repeated the action, thrice more, to punish him for his tardiness. She yielded when his taloned fingers skimmed under her knees. Garrus seized the back of her thighs, grinned toothily, and yanked her off the cot. Shepard cursed as she was upended into his lap.

"You smug son of a bit-_Mmmph_".

Shepard was preoccupied by the thick blue tongue sliding into her mouth. She was kissed, caressed, and lovingly coaxed out of her clothes. Piles of grey, blue, and black fabric joined Garrus's armour on the floor of the Main Battery. Time passed with soft groans, throaty moans, and a continuous flanging growl. Shepard learned, under Garrus's patient tutelage, that surrendering to the one that loved her best, made her neither weak nor powerless.


	2. A Willing Accomplice

_**Cross-Cultural Misunderstandings **_

_**by Pyreite**_

**Rating:** M – Contains Mature Themes

**Synopsis:** Post ME3 Destruction ending. Garrus and Shepard have planned to spend their lives together, but they have to jump a few hurdles on their way towards a blissful relationship. Cross-species confusion ensues, mixed signals, and misunderstandings abound. Turians like to be sure of their place at the sides of their chosen future bondmates, but Shepard being a little too human, doesn't know how to read some of those subtler signals.

**Warnings:**_ Contains kissing, cuddling, pure Shakarian fluff, hints of citrus but no actual lemonade, the use of coarse language (i.e. swearing), the use of an omnitool for video-conferencing, scheming, the telling of a little white-lie, and a glimpse into the future. Discretion is advised._

_**Chapter 2: A Willing Accomplice**_

Hours later, Shepard lay with her fiancé, underneath the florescent lighting recessed into the ceiling of the Main Battery. She grimaced as a rough blue tongue cleansed the last of the dried blood from her shoulder. Garrus's initial bite had been joined by several more during their slow and sensual love-making. Shepard sighed when he slathered another patch of his teeth-marks with medigel. The ointment deadened the punctured skin, eased the aches and pains, and finally gave the temperamental turian an opportunity to care for his future bondmate.

Shepard smiled when Garrus rubbed his plated-cheek against her healing shoulder. He purred contentedly like a large and happy feline. He was perfectly relaxed in his bare skin, a thin blanket, and the warmth of the nest they'd made inside the Main Battery. The wall of anger, built over hours of arguments, misunderstandings, and ignorance, had crumbled in the wake of their blissful reunion. Shepard was glad that peace and harmony had been restored between them.

She fondly rubbed the plated forearm lying across the cot. Shepard laid her head onto that comfortable pad of muscle past Garrus's elbow. She used his upper-arm like a pillow and settled down while he tended her lovebites. She dozed as he smeared the last of her injuries with medigel. Shepard griped when she was roused from sleep by gentle shaking.

"_You've already worn me out, Garrus_! _I need to rest before you fire the Thanix again_!"

The turian's flanging laughter awakened Shepard. She groggily opened her eyes, blinked blearily, and peered over her shoulder slick with medigel. She was confused by Garrus's amusement until she mentally added one and two together. The innuendo, rife with scandalous suggestion, implied the superiority of turian anatomy. Shepard's cheeks flushed a lurid cherry-pink.

"You perverted bastard! I didn't mean it like that!"

Garrus had learned a few human customs since the inception of his relationship with Shepard. She scowled when he looked her in the eye, arched a plated-brow, and winked cheekily. He was quick to capitalise on her drowsy verbal blunder. "Sure you did, Shepard. We both know that I'm the sexiest thing in the room. You're not bad looking yourself, but you lack a certain charm. I'm sure that a C-Cup isn't exactly enormous on the galactic stage".

Shepard elbowed the turian in the belly. She heard his flanging chuckle, rolled her eyes, and would have aimed for his groin if he hadn't whispered in her ear. "Don't be cranky, Shepard. You're beautiful from head to toe. I couldn't improve on perfection if I tried". The compliments, laden with love, cooled her ire. Garrus lapped Shepard's neck until she squirmed.

"I'm not a lollipop, Garrus! Stop licking me raw!"

The turian's guffaw was deafening. Shepard smacked her forehead. She was the one tripping over her own tongue this time around. Garrus usually unwittingly declared_ double-entendre_ that could be horribly misconstrued. Their passionate '_blowing off of steam_' had been more than physically exhausting.

Shepard struggled to gather her lethargic braincells into a semblance of mental discipline. She frowned confusedly when she saw Garrus's ridged nose, bony mandibles, and gleaming blue eyes looking down upon her. She hadn't noticed the change in her _centre of gravity_ until she lay flat on her back beneath him. The blanket was flicked back to reveal Shepard's bare chest, belly, and thighs. Garrus purred reassuringly as he squirted a generous dollop of something cool and oily onto her grazed sternum.

He patiently rubbed the salve into her skin. Garrus was unusually relaxed for the first time in three months. Shepard regretted the decision to suspend their coital activities until the night of their nuptials. The bondmating ceremony was to take place on Palaven, the reception within the rebuilt walls of Garrus's childhood home, and their marital night inside a fortified hotel's honeymoon suite. Shepard was always fatigued after a few rounds with an amorous turian, but the afterglow couldn't compare to these wonderfully relaxing post-coital sessions.

The privacy of the Main Battery provided a chance to simply spend time together. Garrus could lavish her with affection without interruption. Shepard could reciprocate without distraction. The Reaper War was over, the galaxy was at peace, and now they could have a future together. Garrus hummed pleasantly as Shepard cupped his jaw and spoke the words that made his heart whole.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me".

Shepard stroked the blue band of Garrus's family tattoo. The marks were permanently incised into the bridge of his nose, the slope of his cheeks, and the length of his mandibles. Her hand slipped underneath his plated-chin. Garrus stilled as she examined the semi-circular indentations of her teeth. The flanging purr of approval resonated deep inside the broad barrel of his chest.

Shepard admired her handiwork. She was proud of herself for breaking the turian's tough plated-skin. She held out her free hand for the vial of dextro-based medigel. Shepard gently squeezed Garrus's fingers as he laid the item onto her palm. She looked him in the eye and apologised for her transgressions.

"I'm sorry for being a complete ass these last couple of days. It couldn't have been easy for you to watch me twist myself in knots over having to attend another of those damned medal ceremonies. I hate having to strut around like a varren on a leash in front of the very people that screwed us over. The Council, the Alliance, and the rest of the galaxy were already convinced that we were lying about Sovereign, the Collectors, and the Reapers. The War starts on their doorsteps, the Reaper ships land, the Husks pour in, and suddenly the hypocritical bastards start believing".

Garrus quietened when Shepard released his hand. She broke the seal on her vial of medigel, poured some onto her fingertips, and applied the ointment to the first of his own collection of lovebites. He listened attentively as she confided in him after days of avoidance. The parades, medal ceremonies, and post-war celebrations meant nothing to her when millions of people all over the galaxy needed immediate assistance. Shepard would have felt more useful salvaging supplies from derelict spacestations if she could help the disaster-relief efforts.

"There are thousands of people suffering on the fringes of Council space. Refugees, displaced families, and orphans lack the basic necessities of life because the bureaucrats are more interested in pinning medals onto my navy-blues. I spent last night arguing with Primarch Victus over the vid-comm, after a helpful soul in the Hierarchy informed him, that I'd declined being awarded the turian Nova Cluster. The stubborn bastard didn't like being told '_No thank you_'. He wouldn't accept my refusal until I suggested that Tarquin, posthumously, was the better candidate".

Garrus stared at his paramour. Shepard frowned. "What?" The slow shake of Garrus's head, the clacking of his mandibles, and his rusty flanging chuckle made Shepard regret her defiance. She'd forgotten that Adrien Victus, the current Primarch of Palaven, was a former turian general who staunchly believed in the adage '_Never Surrender_'.

Shepard poked her beau in the ribs when his laughter subsided. Garrus continued moisturising her grazed belly, cleared his throat with a hoarse cough, and answered the persistent prodding of her fingers. "You had the gall to say '_No_'. You're unbelievable, Shepard. A good law-abiding turian wouldn't disobey a direct order from the Primarch of Palaven. You're not a turian, Shepard, but you _are_ marrying one, which explains why Victus vid-commed me this morning".

Shepard groaned in annoyance. She hadn't expected Primarch Victus to act deviously. He'd appealed to the one person that could change her mind. Shepard glowered when Garrus explained the Primarch's scheme. His disapproving tone made her suspicious.

"Victus appreciated the gesture of condolence, but with Tarquin being his son, he couldn't accept your recommendation. You're slated for the medal, Shepard. Victus wants you to attend the ceremony, and he's willing to sweeten the pot with an honorary Hierarchy citizenship too. You'd be the first legitimate human citizen of Palaven and its numerous turian colonies. Victus knows that without my citizenship and yours, any turian orphans that we'd be fortunate to adopt, wouldn't be legally recognised as citizens of the Hierarchy".

Garrus wisely kept his plated-mouth shut when Shepard exploded. "_I knew that bastard had an ulterior motive_! _He's been trying to tempt me away from the Alliance since the end of the War_! _I'll give him a fucking legitimate Hierarchy citizenship_! _I'll ram that Nova Cluster up his nose_!"

Shepard nearly rolled off the edge of their cot in her frantic search for the cybernetic bracelet usually worn around her wrist. Garrus wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. The floor of the Main Battery was littered with their clothes, underwear, and the discarded pieces of his hard-suit. Garrus hastily lay down beside Shepard. The cot was narrow, the fit was tight, but he preferred to be uncomfortable to save her from a nasty tumble onto his steel greaves.

Shepard saw the silvery band of his omnitool. She patted Garrus's forearm, gripped his wrist, and urged him to contact the disgruntled Primarch of Palaven. "_Ping Victus_! _I don't care if it is two in the fucking morning on Palaven_! _He will realise, once and for all, that I will not be his political football_!"

Garrus humoured his paramour. He wanted to witness the outcome of her argument with the shrewdest general in the Turian Fleet. He reached across Shepard's prone form, waited for his forearm to be suffused with orange light, and triggered the sensor-array of his omnitool. Garrus's taloned fingers skittered over the holographic keys as he activated the inbuilt video-conferencing function. The blank holo-screen extended upright by five inches, spread across the length of his forearm by six inches, and blinked for several seconds until the vid-call was accepted.

"I apologise for calling so late but I was hoping to talk to Primarch Victus", declared Shepard.

Garrus pressed his plated-brow into the crook of her neck and shoulder. He bit his tongue to stop the laughter from bubbling out of his throat. Shepard was facing down the Primarch's tired, fringeless, and startled bondmate. The female turian, well into her late forties, ogled Shepard's bare human face. Seconds passed in silence until recognition dawned upon her.

The Primarch's bondmate gasped. Her hands flew to her plated-mouth in shock. Her emerald eyes widened, she made a horrible flanging screech, and doubled over as if she were in pain. Shepard gaped at the omnitool's holo-screen. She dug her nails into Garrus's wrist as she called to the distressed recipient of her vid-call.

"Maam! Are you all right? _Maam_!"

Shepard was alarmed when she heard a resonant flanging keen. The Primarch's bondmate was bent chest to knee, cradling her plated-face in the palms of her hands, and making a perturbingly sorrowful sound. Shepard recognised a grieving mother when she saw one. She looked to Garrus for guidance. He nuzzled her cheek encouragingly, discreetly pulled the blanket over her bare chest to conceal her nudity, and urged her to use her natural charm.

"Do what you do best".

Garrus's unwavering belief bolstered Shepard's confidence. She'd had plenty of time in the months of her post-War recovery to become acquainted with the darkness of despair. She'd lost countless comrades during her military career. Ashley, Mordin, Thane, Legion and many more had their names recorded on the Normandy S-R2's memorial wall. Shepard remembered every person with whom she'd served, conversed, and laid to rest in the years before and after her resurrection.

She understood, with perfect clarity, what it was to love and lose friends and family-members. Shepard smiled sadly, kissed Garrus's plated-cheek, and pressed their brows, noses, and chins together. She savoured the turian gesture of intimacy and understanding. The exchange of pressure, breath, and sensation was profoundly moving. Shepard tensed when she heard a flanging hiss of surprise.

She'd forgotten that they had an audience. The_ Relay 314 Incident_ was still fresh in the minds of veteran turian soldiers, like the Primarch of Palaven, who had fought in the siege of Shanxi. Adrien Victus was more intrigued than concerned by Shepard's lovelife, but she doubted that other turians' would be so open-minded. She was prepared to defend her relationship, when Garrus's timely intervention, prevented another intergalactic incident. Shepard huffed indignantly when he nipped her chin.

Garrus discreetly dragged his fingers over her ribs. The scrape of his talons on bare skin alerted Shepard to her state of undress. She glanced down; saw the blanket pooled around her waist, and reddened with embarrassment. Garrus had saved her from flashing the Primarch's bondmate. She was covered from the pelvis down to her toes, but everything upstairs was bare, visible, and gently swaying as she breathed.

Shepard was relieved that her bare back faced the holo-screen. Garrus's mandibles fluttered nervously. He peered over Shepard's shoulder, nodded respectfully to the Primarch's bondmate, and tenderly drew his errant lover into his arms. Shepard felt more than heard Garrus's gentle reproach. The sub-harmonic frequency, modulated by his vocal chords, vibrated through her skin, leached into her bones, and made her feel small, vulnerable, and foolish.

Garrus's taloned fingers rubbed soothing circles up and down Shepard's spine. Minutes passed in silence, seconds ticked by, but he persisted with his ministrations. Shepard sighed when the turian's taloned fingers kneaded the knotted muscles in the small of her back. She unconsciously relaxed as the tension was massaged away. Her head lolled on Garrus's shoulder, her crown was nestled underneath his plated-chin, and she was as cosy, languid, and sleepy as a cat basking in sunlight.

Shepard's eyes were closed. Her face was slack with exhaustion. She dozed in the circle of Garrus's arms. Her absolute trust in him was apparent to their sole spectator. The Primarch's bondmate was amazed by the oddity of their union.

"I didn't believe Adrien when he told me, but to see is to believe. You _have_ chosen to bond with one another despite the differences in your chirality, culture, and species".

Shepard stirred at the sound of an unfamiliar flanging voice. She drowsily gazed over her shoulder. The Primarch's bondmate returned her scrutiny through the omnitool's holo-screen. Shepard noted the lack of the male turian's _crest of horns_, the reduced size and shape of the classical turian mandibles, and the softer, rounder, and fuller feminine features. The plated face, weathered by age, lacked Garrus's hard masculinity, but shared the same glinting avian eyes.

Shepard saw from whom the late Tarquin Victus had inherited his fair complexion, emerald irises, and gentle temperament. The Primarch's bondmate wore the bold white markings unique to her revered family. The same white bands tattooed into her plated forehead, temples, nose, cheeks, chin, and mandibles, adorned the face of her tenacious spouse. Adrien Victus's pride was mirrored by his bondmate. She was confident, but her dignity was tempered by the wisdom, that came with age and experience.

Shepard wondered on the absence of sadness in her expression. The Primarch's bondmate seemed more bewildered than unhappy. She was unabashedly staring at the spectacle of a bare-faced human woman entangled with her turian lover. Shepard blushed when Garrus interceded on her behalf. He was perfectly composed despite being caught half-naked on camera snuggling his mortified non-turian paramour.

"I'm proud of Shepard. I know that some of our people will never accept her humanity, but with all due respect Maam, those biased bastards can kiss my cloaca. Shepard saved their asses, mine, and yours from the Reapers. She deserves happiness after years of being used, abused, and abandoned by the very bureaucratic bastards she served as a Spectre. The Spirits intended for me to become her mate and I have no intention of defying their divine will".

Shepard buried her face in the curve of Garrus's throat. She inhaled the muskiness of sweat, medigel, and gun-oil on his skin. He smelt like safety, like refuge, like _Home_. Garrus respected the Primarch, but refused to accept the charitable offer, bound with obligation, to make his chosen bondmate an official citizen of the Turian Hierarchy. Shepard heard the fury in his icy flanging accusation.

"Primarch Victus knows that_ true_ loyalty can't be bought by credits, medals, or political perks. My bondmate and I are grateful for his consideration, but the Nova Cluster rightfully belongs to your son, and the soldiers that served under his command. The Ninth Platoon should be commemorated for their sacrifice. Tarquin and his Men gave Shepard the opportunity to negotiate the armistice that saved Palaven. Shepard played the intermediary between the Primarch and Urdnot Wrex, but Tarquin's dedication to his duty, ensured that our homeworld didn't become a lifeless crater".

Shepard watched the Primarch's bondmate endure the criticism of her spouse. She didn't appear to be outraged or offended by the suggestion that Tarquin's father refused to acknowledge his contribution to the Reaper War. The turian's head drooped upon her shoulders. Shepard heard an anguished burst of that same resonant flanging keen.

The Primarch's bondmate struggled to regain her composure. Garrus rumbled like a thunderstorm. Shepard heard his reproachful growl. Her beloved was agitated. Shepard patted his scarred mandible, swallowed the emotion lodged in her throat, and ignored the burn in the corners of her eyes.

Responsibility great or small was always a burden. Shepard remembered Tarquin's frantic scramble to defuse the bomb unearthed from the bowels of Tuchanka. She'd watched him tumble into the pit with a tonne of stone, steel, and fire raining down upon him. Shepard fervently hoped that his end had been swift rather than prolonged and painful. Tarquin had completed his mission at the cost of his life, ship, and crew.

Garrus combed his taloned fingers through Shepard's hair. He cradled her head in the palm of his hand, eased her down onto their single shared pillow, and gently drew the blanket up and over her shoulders again. His head bobbed towards the holo-screen of his omnitool. Shepard unconsciously fulfilled the unspoken request and rolled onto her side to make room. Garrus settled down behind her, possessively slid an arm around her waist, and drew her in close to rest against his chest.

Garrus carefully avoided scraping the bare nape of her neck upon the broad ring of his cowl. The fused bone grew steadily thicker, larger, and spinier as it encircled his throat. Shepard kissed the sinewy muscle of his upper-arm. Garrus looked on amusedly as his forearm, encased in a glowing glove of orange light, was drawn forwards until she could clearly see the holo-screen of his omnitool. Shepard expressed her sincere condolences to the Primarch's bondmate.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Maam. I understand what it's like to lose friends and family-members. The heartache is the worst agony in the world, especially, when you can't help but see their faces everywhere you go. My parents died in a pirate raid on Mindoir when I was sixteen. I spent months afterward hoping that the tragedy of losing them, living through the grief, and surviving day by day on my own was just another bad dream".

Shepard heard Garrus's distressed whine. She clasped his hand, pressed their palms together, and interlaced their mismatched fingers. The fit of three fingers and five was bizarre but perfect for a couple of star-crossed lovers born worlds apart. Shepard gave Garrus's hand a reassuring squeeze. She was safe, secure, and content inside their nest of crinkled cot, sheet, and blanket.

Shepard relished the simple pleasure of being enfolded in Garrus's arms. She waited patiently while he made himself comfortable. He slipped a bony knee between her thighs, shrewdly wrapped his calf around her own, and tucked his spur behind the dip of her kneecap. Shepard respected Garrus's subtly deceptive actions. She was unable to escape their impromptu bed unless he allowed her to leave.

Shepard squeezed her legs together. The answering flanging groan made her grin. Shepard winked saucily, wiggled her backside, and deliberately ground down onto the warm thigh trapped between her own. She maintained her serenity while her lover quashed the instinctual urge to burrow into the depths of her body. The Primarch's bondmate was watching them.

Shepard's expression softened when she saw the sad plated-face on the omnitool's holo-screen. She intuitively comprehended the dilemma. The Primarch of Palaven's schedule was clogged with appointments with various _Heads of State_ focusing on the progress of the many rebuilding projects across the turian homeworld. He had no time to spend consoling his distraught bondmate. Shepard wondered if there was a way to lighten the pall of her sorrow.

"Maam, I'm sorry if I'm being overly forward, but I'm aboard the Normandy S-R2. We could be enroute to Palaven in a few hours if you needed to travel to the Citadel. I know that the Primarch will be chairing the conference to expand the current Council seats. I'm fairly certain that he'll find an excuse to harass me again over turning down the Nova Cluster. I would appreciate any help that you'd be willing to lend me in convincing him to pledge the medal to the Ninth Platoon".

Shepard grinned when realisation dawned upon the Primarch's bondmate. She cheekily waggled her eyebrows as the turian's emerald eyes twinkled with delight. She shared a conspiratorial look with Tarquin's poor neglected mother. The turian tapped her plated-chin, took a few seconds to mull over the proposal, and snorted airily as she made her decision. The subtle nod of acquiescence, a graceful dip of the head, confirmed that Shepard had a willing accomplice.

The Primarch's bondmate helpfully informed them of her mate's most recent travel arrangements. "Adrien was unable to accept your vid-call tonight, Commander Shepard, purely because he left this morning aboard the _Guardian_. He was bound for the Citadel". The crafty turian made an irresistible offer. "I would be glad to run a little interference on your behalf. I respect Adrien's responsibilities as the Primarch of Palaven; however, he has forgotten that I need him too. I shall therefore, in due course, remind him of his marital duties to our house, home, and family".

The Primarch's bondmate verified Shepard's suspicions. She already had influential allies in Council space. Wrex, Tali, Liara, and Matriarch Aethyta in addition to their vast Krogan, Quarian, and Asari supporters would naturally tip the scales in her favour. The wife of Adrien Victus, however, was the trump card that Shepard needed. She had learned, through five consecutive years of suicide missions, that the best offence was a strong defence.

"Thank you, Maam", replied Shepard. She saluted the elated turian, bid her farewell, and cautioned her to pack an overnight bag. "Goodnight, sleep well, and you'll want to pack plenty of underwear. Tension does terrible things to a male turian. I'll see you in a few hours, Maam, bright and early. We'll have plenty of time to discuss how to approach the Primarch before we reach the Citadel".

Shepard smirked when she heard a round of flanging laughter. The Primarch's bondmate threw back her head, flared her mandibles, and guffawed like a Krogan choking on a flagon of Ryncol. Game, set, and match. Shepard tapped the holographic keys of Garrus's omnitool. The holo-screen went black, receded into the glowing glove of orange light enclosing his forearm, and disappeared from sight as she shut-off the sensor-array. The hush inside the Main Battery didn't last for long.

Shepard evaded Garrus's amorous nips as she put a call through to the bridge. She stuffed a knuckle between his teeth when he tried to nibble on her shoulder. The enthusiastic lapping of his tongue made her toes curl. Shepard wriggled impatiently as she was embraced by the besotted turian. She was tired from their earlier leisurely pleasures, exhilarated from gaining precious leverage over the Primarch of Palaven, and conscious of Garrus's _eagerness_.

Shepard regretted teasing him. She was sleepy, a little sore, and seconds from devouring him whole. She licked her lips when Garrus gave her a _standing ovation_. She was mindful of the delicious pressure on the inside of her thighs. Shepard shivered as she called to their resident AI over the intercom.

"EDI, we're taking a detour. Set course for the Primarch's residence in Cipritine. We're going to collect a turian VIP from Palaven. Inform Joker of the adjustment to the flight-plan at the next shift-change. I want him at the helm, ready and waiting, to bid a cheery good morning to the Primarch's bondmate".

Shepard bit her lip when the AI's response was delayed by several seconds. EDI's return to the Normandy S-R2 had been fraught with technical glitches, mechanical faults, and the continuous generation of errors in her baseline programming code. The systematic corruption of the Reaper code fragments, integrated by Cerberus into her personality matrices, had hindered the AI's recovery and reinstallation aboard the Normandy's central servers. EDI was functional, but her days of joining Shepard's squad on missions, were over. Shepard sighed regretfully when she saw EDI's holographic avatar spring up near the door of the Main Battery.

The blue sphere, reminiscent of a blinking eye, seemed to stare into space. Shepard shared an anxious look with Garrus. He shrugged his shoulders uncertainly. Shepard blushed when the AI, notorious for her unconventional sense of humour, explained the dangers of engaging in intimacy inside the Main Battery. EDI had lost a few of her physical freedoms, but she retained her wit and charm.

"Shepard, I should remind you that the Main Battery is hardwired with cameras, microphones, and biometric sensors. Jeff, several members of the crew, and a handful of my technicians were curious about your fornications with Officer Vakarian. I denied their access to the audio, video, and biometric-feeds to ensure the preservation of your privacy. However, as the Main Battery is only seventy-five percent sound-proof, they were able to hear some of your vocalisations by pressing their ears against the door. The current betting pool, in favour of Officer Vakarian, speculates that you will be _unable to walk straight _tomorrow morning".

Shepard rolled her eyes when Garrus bared his fangs in a roguish grin. She recognised the smugness of a virile male turian in the prime of his life. He was raring to exercise his formidable stamina. Shepard savoured the enthusiasm she inspired with a playful roll of her hips. She enjoyed the flanging moan, the pleasurable slide of pliant ridges, and the wonderful slickness that came naturally to an aroused turian.

"Thank you, EDI. We'll be more careful next time", assured Shepard. She rubbed her bed-mate's forearm. He was ready to continue their coital exertions now that their business with the Primarch's bondmate had concluded for the night. Shepard reddened when EDI helpfully recommended a more suitable location for their future trysts. The AI was unnervingly perceptive.

"Do not worry, Shepard, today's surveillance records show your fiancé undertaking several lengthy maintenance checks on the Normandy's armaments. The subsequent maintenance report has been filed, time-stamped, and forwarded to Tali and Engineer Adams for review. Should you feel the urge to indulge in sexual activity again, Shepard, I believe that the first-floor would better serve your needs. Your personal quarters are readily equipped with a large double-bed, spacious lounge, and private bathroom. You could safely entertain yourself and Officer Vakarian for hours without fear of interruption".

Shepard had spent the afternoon and evening ensconced with Garrus inside the Main Battery. They had passed the time exchanging apologies, remembering why they loved one another, and conversing about the future. Shepard was startled by EDI's willingness to lie for them. The AI had denied access to her surveillance feeds, falsified records, and submitted a fake work-report. The initiative showed collusion with members of the crew.

Shepard's silence spurred EDI to explain her motives. "You are more than my Commanding Officer. You are my friend. I will do what I feel is necessary to protect you. If you have no additional orders, Shepard, than I bid you goodnight".

The AI's spherical avatar vanished. Shepard was astonished by EDI's likely complicity with Joker, Tali, and Adams. The Normandy's pilot was the probable instigator, but Adams had undoubtedly provided guidance on Alliance regulations, while Tali had known how to fabricate the lie. Shepard blinked rapidly, sniffled, and wiped her watery eyes. She listened attentively when Garrus enlightened her on the reasons behind their crewmates' dishonesty.

"Everyone aboard this ship respects you, Shepard. We're determined to keep you safe. The crewmembers of the Normandy aren't just your allies. They're your friends for life. We will always remember what you've done for us, Shepard, even if the fickle bastards inhabiting the rest of the galaxy forget".

Garrus cupped Shepard's cheek when the tears overflowed. He tenderly wiped away the moisture that trickled over his talons. Shepard would no longer walk the path of her life alone. The empathy, comprehension, and certainty of her crew's solidarity made her weep like a child. Garrus met her rueful gaze.

Shepard's eyes were wet. Dewdrops glistened like transparent pearls upon her lashes. She was the suffering saviour enduring the guilt of her own survival amidst the innumerable dead. The Reaper War was over, the future secure, and poor Shepard was more concerned with her failures than her greatest success. Her breath hitched when Garrus kissed her lovingly.

Shepard bore the brunt of her lover's weight. He tugged the blanket from her body, revealed her scars inch by glorious inch, and draped himself over her like a shroud. His plated-skin radiated a constant heat that lessened the midnight chill. Shepard moaned, panted, and breathlessly recited Garrus's name. She was brought to the brink of ecstasy, rode the pleasurable crest into oblivion, and plunged into the depths of darkness and fatigue.

Shepard surfaced an hour later, sweaty and breathing hard. She grasped Garrus's shoulders, buried her face in the curve of his throat, and gasped against his skin. "_I love you_". The whispered words incited a pleased flanging purr. Garrus cuddled Shepard close, murmured his reply, and tiredly surrendered to his weariness.

"I love you too".

Shepard smiled as she closed heavy-lidded eyes. She was exhausted from their love-making. The staccato beat of Garrus's heart, throbbing beneath her ear, lulled her to sleep. Shepard dreamed of luminescent blue eyes, the cherubic faces of her children, and a household filled with light, laughter, and happiness. The hope seeded into the fertile soil of her subconscious would influence the immediate and distant future.


End file.
